Over Wine and Pony by Fairusa84
by Twilight Diversity Contest
Summary: Bella and Edward have been friends since college, but Bella has always loved him as more than a friend. Edward does not appear to feel the same way, so Bella has resigned herself to being his best friend…


**Twilight Diversity Contest**

Title of Story: Over Wine and _Pony_

Story Summary: Bella and Edward have been friends since college, but Bella has always loved him as more than a friend. Edward does not appear to feel the same way, so Bella has resigned herself to being his best friend…

Pairing: Edward/Bella

Rating: M

Word Count (not including summary, header, or footnoted word translations): 7050

Disclaimer: _The author does not own any publicly recognizable entities herein. No copyright infringement is intended._

* * *

Checking my make up in my compact mirror, I mentally berate myself for worrying about my appearance. Sure, I'm in a trendy wine bar in the swanky Teneriffe neighbourhood I call home, but this is not a date. I keep reminding myself of this, although I know that I didn't pick out this particular outfit to impress anyone at work. The dressy shorts and off-shoulder sweater I'm wearing are not something I would usually wear to work. I did add a blazer, to be more professional, and the ankle boots on my feet are also quite business casual. As I continue to repeat this to myself, I know I'm not fooling anyone. Except perhaps for Edward. He has always remained blissfully ignorant.

Edward and I met at uni. He had transferred from the University of Illinois for a year, studying architecture. On his way home from a party, he had lost his way while trying to get back to his College. Coincidentally, his College was close to mine, so I showed him home. He called me the next day, inviting me for coffee to say thanks, and we've been friends ever since.

His year abroad turned into an indefinite move, as he landed an internship at a prestigious architectural firm, followed by a job offer. We both exchanged our College lodgings for grown-up apartments after graduation, and I obtained a position at the Queensland Art Gallery.

Throughout these changes in our lives, our friendship remained, and I cherish it. I am the only one he has ever brought home to meet his family. Not even his longest lasting girlfriend, Vicky, had that honour. I take comfort in knowing that I hold a special position in his life.

I only wish it would be more.

Alas, we missed our window. My heart is still holding out hope, though.

True to form, he doesn't keep me waiting long, and arrives full of unnecessary apologies. I wave them off and motion for him to sit down.

"No worries, hon, you know I'm always early. Anyway, I took the liberty of ordering a Shiraz and some crisps."

"Cool. Are we ordering food?" he asks, already picking up a menu.

After settling on some shared platters and placing our order, we catch up on our week. We text each other regularly, but I always enjoy talking face-to-face. His facial expressions lend more insights into his stories, and I love hearing his voice. It's masculine and slightly hoarse, like rough velvet. Over the years, he has picked up a bit of an Australian accent and some of the expressions, but when he is drunk or talking to his family, his original Chicago accent comes back to the surface. It's almost like a measuring tool for his inebriation.

Once he has finished telling me about the project he is currently managing, I find the courage to settle my curiosity.

"Jess is okay with you hanging out with me tonight? Or did she already have plans?"

He has been dating this girl Jessica for a few months now. She's a bubbly, perky receptionist at Stamford Plaza with a penchant for gossip. I don't care for her much. She's too flaky for my taste, and not someone I see Edward building a future with. Her habit of checking up on him also grates on my nerves. I try to be supportive, though. After all, I'm his best friend.

He chuckles humourlessly at my question.

"She's not in town, so..."

At my inquisitive look, he elaborates.

"She's on a trip to the Whitsundays with her friends."

"Your tone tells me there's more to it than that," I say, letting him know he can open up.

He sighs heavily and busies himself with a cocktail napkin, shredding it to little pieces.

"She totally sprung this trip on me last minute, which tells me she didn't even take me into account," he complains. "What if I had something planned?"

"That does seem rather... inconsiderate," I say diplomatically.

In my mind, I am simultaneously wringing the girl's neck for being a selfish brat, and rejoicing at seeing Edward recognising this nasty trait in her.

"It is, right?" he agrees. "To be honest, I wasn't even all that upset at the trip itself, just the way she told me. I was actually more relieved to be getting some distance without having to tell her."

I can't contain my giggle at that, but soften that reaction by reaching out for his hand.

"You needed some time alone?" I ask.

"Not alone, just away from her," he amends. Before I can fully register the meaning of that, he continues. "But can we talk about something else? I don't want to be a downer. Let's go have some fun!"

.

As fancy as Claret House Wine Bar is, it is not exactly the place to let loose on a Friday night, so we take a taxi to Fortitude Valley. There are some bars there, and one of the interns at the Gallery mentioned that the backpacker hangout Birdees is actually a lot of fun for locals as well. It doesn't disappoint. The music is loud, the dance floor is full, and drinks are flowing. The decent prices no doubt contribute to this last part. We start with a round of shots, the alcohol burning down my throat.

Edward orders us both a Coopers and then pulls me to the dance floor, where we jump around to the pounding beats. A lot of the people in here are backpackers in their early twenties, but we don't feel out of place at all. The exertion and heat make me incredibly thirsty, and I find myself drinking several bottles in quick succession. Feeling the alcohol go to my head, I make my way back to the bar and order some water. Edward does not appear to be worried about getting drunk; he declines my offer of water and orders another beer.

I am not oblivious to the stares thrown Edward's way, and secretly revel in the glares aimed in my direction. He is a very attractive man, and it makes sense for women to ogle him, maybe try to make a move. The fact that he studiously ignores them, doesn't even seem to notice them, must be frustrating. Add to that the fact that he only pays attention to me, almost possessively draping himself around me, is a huge boost to my confidence. It doesn't matter that he isn't mine; as far as everyone here is concerned, we are here together and he is spoken for.

I excuse myself to use the facilities, where I splash some water on my face and neck. Looking in the mirror, I see my flushed face and wide eyes. I'm still on the right side of buzzed but need to be careful, especially since Edward appears to be spiralling out of control. Resolving to stick to water and soda for the remainder of the evening, I go back inside.

Edward is still at the bar, having since ordered another round of shots. I politely decline, ordering a Coke instead. He shrugs and slams back both shots before downing his beer and ordering another. He then drags me back onto the dance floor.

Now, while he is no stranger to partying, this particular behaviour is quite excessive, even for him. Something must be bothering him. I look up into his eyes, trying to read his expression, but a mask is still firmly in place. Well, not so much a mask as rather inebriation, allowing him to mostly hide his true feelings. He seems determined to drown whatever troubles him in alcohol and pulsing beats.

Just then, the music changes, and the sensual bass of Ginuwine's "Pony" blasts through the speakers. Edward pulls me close and starts grinding against me. His face is buried in my hair, and I feel his hot breath on my bare shoulder. A shiver runs down my spine at this intimate position, my treacherous heart telling me to seize the opportunity. I allow my body to relax in his arms, placing my hands on his shoulders. The words and the beat combine into a heady mix, guiding my moves. We are pressed together all the way down to our knees, and I can feel each of his muscles as they flex and release with his movements. I can also feel something else, pressing into my belly, and instinctively, I grind into him. He responds by pressing a hand to my lower back, holding me in place. Feeling him that intimately, coupled with his low groan, causes a rush of pleasure to shoot down to my groin. I close my eyes and lose myself in the sensation, letting my heart believe for just a moment that he is mine and his actions aren't fuelled by alcohol.

Grudgingly, I'm still sober enough for reason to overrule my heart, and I eventually decide to call it a night. I pull Edward with me to the exit and call a taxi.

.

I give the driver Edward's address, figuring I'll make sure he gets home safe before going back to my own place. Apparently he is not completely out of it, because he suddenly grabs my arm.

"I don't want to go home," he whispers urgently.

"Babe, you need to sleep it off," I try to reason with him.

"Can't I come with you?" he asks, his green eyes pleading. "I don't want to be alone, and my place is full of her stuff."

His pout is so adorable; I want to kiss it. Barely managing to control the urge, I ask him to explain his previous statement instead.

"I'm so sick of it! She just waltzes all over my life. Even now, she's away on a trip, but she keeps on texting me to check where I am and what I'm doing. Why do you think I turned off my phone? And now suddenly my place is filled with her stuff, and she didn't even ask me! It's like she just decided to move herself in. And she's messy!" he complains.

In the rear-view mirror, I see the driver unsuccessfully trying to stifle his laughter at this drunken, slurred outburst. Edward looks absolutely miserable at the prospect of having to go home, so I give the driver my address.

"All right, hon. You can crash at my place."

He launches himself at me, crushing me to his chest.

"Thank you!"

After a few moments, he slumps back into his seat. He is more asleep than awake for the remainder of the ride.

I pay the driver when we get to my apartment and nudge Edward awake. He manages to climb out of the taxi and make his way up to my door without any incidents. That short nap must have taken the edge off. I guide him to the couch before ducking into my kitchen to make some tea. I could use it to settle my frazzled nerves at the snippets Edward has shared this evening. And he definitely needs it to rehydrate and water down the alcohol in his blood. Once I have two steaming mugs ready, I join him on the couch.

"So what's going on with you and Jess that has you this worked up?" I hedge.

He makes a face at the mention of her name, causing hope to blossom in my heart.

"I see now why you don't like her," he tells me. Before I can argue that there is a nuance, he continues, "It's okay, B. You know I value your opinion more than anything. I just wish you would've told me. Would've saved me a lot of grief."

Not knowing what to say to counter his observations, I remain silent, allowing him room to elaborate.

"When I met her, I wasn't looking for anything serious, and I honestly thought she would just be a fling. But then she started making plans for the next weekend and the one after that, and all of a sudden we were hanging out during the week as well. It didn't really bother me at first, because, you know, what guy turns down regular sex?"

I grimace but know he is right. I have been in similar "relationships" in the past. The kind where you know it's not going anywhere, but it's easy, so you don't break it off when you should.

"So anyway, it's come to the point where I realise we want totally different things in life. She wants to live it large, flaunt what she has and what I can give her. Like this trip to the Whitsundays. I can guarantee you that they're using their credit cards to their limits and posting pics of everything on Facebook."

I can only imagine. We're not Facebook friends, but she tags Edward in her posts, so I do see the occasional picture, usually accompanied by a caption clearly intended to provoke jealousy. I rarely hit the "Like" button on those.

"We've actually had several fights because I don't feel the need to hit all the parties and events. Can you imagine if I ever were to marry her? She'd expect this massive ring and would invite everyone she's ever met, just to show off."

He shudders at the thought, then takes another sip of his tea. I cannot suppress my own shudder at the thought of him marrying her. Or anyone else for that matter.

"Like I said, I'm so sick of it. She worked her way into my life when I wasn't paying attention, and now she thinks she can control it. I don't want to be with someone so high maintenance. Why can't she be satisfied with what I offer? Why does she always want more?"

Not knowing how to answer that rhetoric question, I ask him what he'll do next.

"Pack up her stuff and tell her it's over when she gets back," he says, surprisingly clear and decidedly.

"Well, if you need me, just give me a call," I offer.

We drink our tea in silence after that.

.

When we finish our tea, I excuse myself to collect some blankets for Edward for the night. I take advantage of the few moments alone to ground myself after his confessions of the evening. My mind is warring with my heart, the latter rejoicing at Edward's impending release from Jessica, while the former insists I should maintain my role as his friend first and foremost. It would be poor form to take advantage of his vulnerable situation, not to mention risking our friendship.

Edward startles me out of my musings by materialising right behind me when I turn around from my closet.

"Wow, you scared me," I sigh, pressing a hand to my racing heart in an effort to calm it down.

He appears a bit more sober than before, which is a relief, but the look in his eyes is troubled.

"Are you okay?" I ask.

"I figured it out," he blurts, confusing me.

"What are you talking about?"

"She's not you. None of them were."

"Edward?" I ask, scared to jump to conclusions as to what he might mean.

"All those girls I've dated, they don't measure up to you," he elaborates.

Before I can respond to this revelation, he cups my face in his hands and crashes his lips to mine. My surprised gasp allows him to slip his tongue into my mouth, while his fingers tangle in my hair. The blankets fall to the floor as I lose myself in his kiss, my hands sliding up his chest. My heart starts racing for entirely different reasons, matching the beat of his own under my palm. I am acutely aware of how closely our bodies are pressed together, the way he anchors himself to me, and the contrast between his soft lips and rough stubble. His taste is unlike anything I could have imagined. My mind is willing to conspire with my heart for at least a little while; a small voice whispers that this is as much as I'll get, so I might as well enjoy it while it lasts.

We stumble across the room and fall onto my bed, a mass of tangled limbs, barely managing to not bash our heads together. We laugh at the awkwardness but are soon swept up again in the moment, our mouths devouring each other. Edward removes my sweater and makes quick work of my bra, his hands immediately finding my breasts. I moan shamelessly as his skilled fingers manipulate my nipples. He moves down my body, kissing and nibbling as he goes, before unbuttoning my shorts and sliding them down my legs. He then hooks his fingers in my panties and removes them as well, leaving me naked and bare before him. He seems conflicted about his next move, looking from my pussy to my breasts and up to my face and back. While I am eager to experience his tongue on all those places, I want to feel him inside me more, so I pull him back up for another kiss. I pull off his shirt, then release the button on his jeans and pull down his zipper before pushing his jeans down. He kicks them the rest of the way off and yanks down his boxers as well in one swift motion.

"Condom?" he asks.

"Top drawer."

He reaches over and pulls one out of the box, sitting back to put it on. I don't hide my ogling of his amazingly defined body. He is muscular in all the right places, lean and toned. He has some chest hair and a happy trail I am dying to follow with my tongue. His cock stands proudly. My muscles clench in anticipation. He is definitely not lacking in that department, but he is also not scary big. He strokes himself a few times before rolling on the condom, then looks back up at me, his eyes lingering on his way up.

"So fucking beautiful," he murmurs.

His heated gaze causes butterflies to flutter in my stomach. I would usually feel self-conscious about being so exposed, especially for the first time, but with him I only feel lust-filled anticipation. I want to experience all of him like this, because who knows what will happen in the morning?

He leans down over me, his arms on either side of my head. One of his hands cups my face as he kisses me deeply. His fingers then trail down the length of my body, making goose bumps erupt all over my skin, until he reaches down and guides himself into me. The initial stretch feels almost surreal, the feeling heightened by our shared breath. I moan and arch my back, allowing him to slide in even deeper. He breaks our kiss and looks at me with a mixture of awe and slipping control in his eyes.

"I can't go slow," he says apologetically. "It's... too much... You feel so good."

He trembles with the effort to stay still and prolong the sensation. I pull his face back down to mine and kiss him, then whisper in his ear to let go. What follows is intense and all-consuming, even though it probably only lasts a few minutes. His head drops to my shoulder as he wraps his arms around me, holding me close as he pounds into me. It's all I can do to hold on to him, tilting my hips up to create a better angle. We are covered in sweat, his taste salty on my tongue. His thrusts become more erratic until he groans loudly in my ear and stills.

I hold him to me, my legs still wrapped around his waist, my fingers stroking soothingly through his hair. His heart is pounding; I can feel it vibrating through my chest. He breathes heavily for a few more moments before pulling back slightly, dragging his lips to mine. We kiss languidly for a while. When we break apart, I know his wide-eyed expression must match my own.

"Wow," I breathe. "That was..."

"Quick," he interrupts. "I'm sorry. I just got so caught up. I didn't think..."

"Edward," I say, cupping his face in my hands. "Don't be sorry. I'm not. It was intense; you got overwhelmed. It still felt amazing to me."

"I'll make it up to you, though," he insists. "Just give me a couple of minutes."

.

True to his word, he is ready to go again a little while later. He has disposed of the condom and has gotten us a glass of water from the bathroom. We lounge for a little bit, his fingers tracing patterns on my arm. I am so relaxed I almost doze off.

He doesn't let me, though.

Tilting my head up, he captures my lips in another kiss, reigniting my lust for him. Now that I know what it's like to be with him like this, I feel insatiable. There is no way tonight can be enough.

Taking charge, I push him onto his back and straddle him, his hardening cock resting against my butt. I trace the muscles of his chest and abdomen, wanting to savour the moment and admire the view.

I have seen him shirtless over the years, like when we would hang out at the South Bank Lagoon. But nothing compares to this vision of him: not just shirtless, but completely naked, in my bed, underneath me. My heart clenches at the realisation that I am finally experiencing him this way, which was previously restricted to my fantasies. Muscles lower down clench as well, the sensation amplified when he reaches up his hands to fondle my breasts, his thumbs rubbing over my nipples. My hair falls around my face as I look down at him with hooded eyes, biting my lip. My hips roll of their own volition, creating a delicious feeling.

He releases one of my breasts, reaching over to grab another condom. Trailing my hands up his chest, I lean down to kiss him, taking the condom from him. His arms wrap around my waist, keeping my hips in place while he grinds against me. As exhilarating as this position feels, the need to feel him inside me once more is greater, so I sit up straight and scoot back on his lap.

His erection rests heavily on his lower abdomen. It twitches when I lightly run my fingers over it. Once I've opened the condom wrapper, I take a firmer hold of him, taking pride in the look of anticipated pleasure on his face at the contact. I lean forward to kiss him while I guide his cock to my entrance, then sink down on him. We moan into each other's mouths.

Settling on his lap, I experimentally roll my hips a little. I feel him deeper this way and enjoy the control I have. Pushing up into a sitting position, I run my fingers down his torso. His hands return to my breasts but settle on my hips as I lean back. The new angle causes him to hit a most delicious spot inside me.

"Oh shit," I cry out. "That feels good."

Edward hisses and curses, his fingers digging into my hips as he pulls me to him more forcefully. I continue rocking on his lap, swivelling my hips on each downstroke. There is a steady build-up originating where we are joined. Tossing my head back and leaning my hands on his thighs, I give into the feeling, concentrating on the delicious motions of our bodies.

Chasing my release, I speed up, slamming down on him harder. Edward realises I am close and moves one hand to my clit, rubbing it in time with my rocking and his thrusts. That is all it takes to push me over the edge, and I moan his name as I come. He draws out my orgasm by continuing to rub me as he thrusts more powerfully now, taking control while I ride out my high. He sits up abruptly, crushing me to his chest. His mouth is at my throat; I can feel his hot breaths against my skin. I wrap my arms around him, tangling my fingers in his hair, tilting his head up so I can kiss him. Those sloppy kisses turn into shared breaths as he answers my moans with his grunts. I can tell he is getting close now, his thrusts more erratic. His hold on me is so tight it is almost painful, but I am oblivious to it, still completely caught up in the moment.

The last thing that registers is both of us collapsing onto my bed in a sweaty heap. Inhaling the combined scents of his cologne, our sweat, and the unmistakeable smell of sex, I fall into a deep sleep.

.

Sometime during the night, I find myself regaining consciousness. There is a warm, firm body nestled behind me, one arm slung over my waist. It takes me a few moments to remember that it is Edward in my bed, holding me close. On instinct, I move my hips against his, feeling him harden against my butt. His hand is fondling my breast while his lips trace kisses down my neck and shoulder. Once he notices I am awake, he increases his efforts and slides his hand from my breast down my body. I grab for a condom, hastily giving it to him to put on. He pulls my leg up over his hip and guides himself in, then resumes the exploration of his fingers. There is no rush this time, only feeling, and I end up boneless and spent before falling back asleep.

.

It is still early, based on the light coming in through my bedroom window, when I wake up again. I am draped across Edward's chest, his heart beating steadily in my ear. I am in that in-between place between sleeping and waking, luxuriating in the moment and Edward's naked body underneath me. He stirs as well, moaning my name in his sleep.

"I love you," I sigh, in my own sleep-addled state.

I feel Edward freeze, my own body tensing up as well. I want to kick myself for ruining what could very well have been an amazing wake-up call by blurting out my biggest secret in an unguarded moment. Figuring I might as well get it over with, I steel my resolve and chance a look up at him.

He catches me by surprise, though, because instead of the pity and rejection I expect to see in his eyes, I find him smiling softly at me.

"I love you too," he says, then kisses me tenderly.

We lie in each other's arms for a while, just revelling in our mutual admissions.

"When did you know?" he suddenly asks.

"Know what?" I reply, completely confused as to what he could mean.

"That you were in love with me," he clarifies, blushing a little and smiling bashfully.

He looks so adorable like that; I can't resist kissing him before considering his question.

"I think I already had a crush on you after we first met."

"Why didn't you say anything back then?"

"I didn't want to jeopardise our friendship," I defend myself. "Plus, you always had some girl or another following you around."

"But I didn't do anything with them!" he exclaims.

"I know that now, but twenty-year-old me didn't. I guess I just didn't think I'd stand a chance, and I didn't want to stuff up what turned out to be a great friendship."

"All right," he concedes. "But when did you realise it was more than a crush?"

I trace designs on his chest while I contemplate my feelings for him. I know that I've been in love with him for years, but trying to narrow it down to a specific moment is a bit more difficult. Finally, a memory pops into my head.

"Do you remember your first summer here? You'd been here for about ten months, and you were going home for Christmas."

He nods but doesn't comment, allowing me to continue uninterrupted.

"You were travelling so lightly because most of your clothes would be useless in Chicago weather, and I just got so sad seeing that single weekend bag. I tried to picture you in winter clothes, doing all these postcard cliché things in the snow, and I just hated knowing I wouldn't get to wish you happy New Year in person. I was miserable the entire time you were gone, picturing you with some faceless beauty. I was sure you wouldn't want to come back here, which was ridiculous because you were in the middle of your internship, but my heart was telling me you'd be happier back home."

"Bella, that's silly. You know that, right?"

"I know that now, but back then, I was so worried that our friendship and your internship wouldn't be enough for you to stay here. My insecurities convinced me that you'd meet some girl during your trip and you'd change your plans. That's when I realised I loved you as more than a friend."

"Then why were you dating that guy Jake when I got back?" he asks incredulously.

I cringe at the memory. Jake was a contemporary Aboriginal artist who was part of an exposition I was working on as part of my internship. We spent a lot of time together in the weeks leading up to it. He picked up on my vulnerable state during Edward's absence and made his move during a New Year's Eve party he knew I'd be attending. I broke it off when he suggested a romantic getaway for Valentine's Day, knowing I couldn't reciprocate his growing feelings.

"Jake was just... there... when I was lonely. It never should've gone beyond that evening," I remind him.

"I was crushed when I found out," he admits softly.

Looking up at him stunned, I ask him to clarify.

"You weren't the only one who realised something during that trip," he confesses. "I missed you something fierce. Yeah, it was great to see my family and friends again, but aside from one or two parties, I mostly hung out at my parents'. I wanted to call you, buy you a plane ticket, fly back home to see you... But I didn't dare, because I didn't want to make a fool of myself in case all you felt for me was friendship. Then when I got home, you were with Jake, confirming my insecurities. So I settled for being your best friend."

We are quiet for a few minutes, letting our mutual confessions sink in.

"Damn, we were a bunch of idiots," I finally mutter.

.

"Are we really doing this?"

"Didn't we already? Twice last night, again earlier this morning?"

I half-heartedly slap his arm, giggling at his cheeky grin.

"You know what I mean, silly. This, us... are we doing this?"

He looks at me intently, all traces of humour gone from his eyes. Tucking a strand of hair behind my ear, he pulls my face to his and gives me a tender kiss.

"Bella, I may have been absolutely pissed last night, but it helped open my eyes to the truth. I meant it when I said that none of my past girlfriends or dates measure up to you. I was just too scared to risk our friendship."

I would be lying if I said I am not relieved to hear him basically say what I have been thinking all this time. My smile stretches from ear to ear, but I don't care how ridiculous I might look, because the smile on his face matches my own.

"Last night..." he continues. "Yeah, I was drunk, and it wasn't planned, but I don't regret it. Not one bit. I want this with you. I want _you_."

"I want you," I confirm, reaching up to kiss him. "All of you."

"I love you," he replies.

He rolls me onto my back and pushes my leg up slightly before he slips inside me. I happily accommodate him, stretching my arms over my head and arching my back to give him an enticing view. He eagerly leans down to catch one of my nipples in his mouth. He feels amazing like this. I'm not sure if it's the position or the emotion of our changing dynamic. He moves rhythmically within me in strong, deep strokes, my hips meeting his thrust for thrust. I kiss him everywhere I can reach: his lips, his chin, his jaw, his ear, his neck, his shoulder. His grip on me is almost painful, but I love feeling his weight on me like this. He hits all the right spots inside me and I quickly approach my orgasm.

Suddenly, he halts his movements.

"Edward?" I ask breathlessly. "What's wrong?"

He lifts his head from where it was buried in the side of my neck and looks at me with a guilty expression on his beautiful face.

"I... I forgot to put on a condom," he confesses.

"Oh," I reply. "Don't worry about it."

When he looks at me questioningly, I realise I may need to clarify that. While I know that he trusts me, a girl once tried to trap him with a pregnancy. He caught her poking holes in his condoms, and when confronted, she confessed to lying about being on birth control. He didn't hesitate to dump her, but not before he made her take three pregnancy tests.

"I'm on the pill. Have been for years. And you know I haven't had sex in... forever. I got tested right after Riley, so I'm clean. And I know you've always used condoms..." I trail off.

He responds by kissing me deeply and resuming his movements.

.

We lounge in bed for most of Saturday morning before getting up. I contemplate inviting him into the shower with me, but he offers to fix us some brunch in the meantime. He is still in his boxers when I enter the kitchen and I take a moment to appreciate the view before taking a seat at my breakfast bar.

"What do you want to do today?" I ask while sipping coffee.

He looks at me with a hungry expression, making me think he'll suggest to get naked again as soon as possible. I am not particularly adverse to that possibility. Then he controls himself, closing his eyes and shaking his head.

"I think it'd be best if I pack up Jess' stuff today. She'll be back sometime tomorrow and I don't want to prolong the drama by having to do it then."

"Makes sense," I reluctantly agree. "Would you like me to help?"

"Yes, please. I want to get it over with."

.

We take advantage of the lovely spring weather and walk along the river at a leisurely pace. Edward's apartment overlooks Methyr Park towards Mowbray Park across the water. When we enter he directs me to his bathroom to collect Jessica's toiletries. It doesn't surprise me that she only uses very high end products. There is not a lot of it at the moment, though; she probably took her most frequently used items with her on the trip. Having finished quickly, I join Edward in his closet, where he is busy packing clothes into some bags.

"You weren't kidding when you said she moved herself in," I comment, noting the amount of closet spaced suddenly freed up.

"I know," he replies. "I should have stopped her then, but I was dumbstruck. Also, she did it while I was at work."

My jaw clenches at that titbit of information. If there is one thing I hate, it's manipulation. When that happens to my best friend, I hate it even more.

"I'm almost finished here," he says, distracting me from my murderous thoughts. "Just a few things in the living room."

"No worries. Where do you want me to put the box from the bathroom?"

"In the hallway is fine."

When he is done, he adds the bags to the same spot, then packs a change of clothes for himself. He explains he doesn't want to stay in his apartment until he has finished the mess with Jessica, so we return to my place after taking a quick detour through Coles for some groceries.

.

"I'm glad I finally made up my mind," Edward admits while we prepare dinner. "I don't understand how I became so complacent."

"Can I be completely honest with you?" I ask. When he nods, I continue, "She's a manipulative brat. She went behind you back in moving her stuff in, then distracted you with sex when you found out. I never said anything before because I wanted to be your supportive friend. But I'm glad you finally came to your senses. That I get to call you mine now is just the cherry on top."

When I finish my rant I look up to find him looking at me with the goofiest smile on his face.

"What?" I ask.

"I fucking love you!" he exclaims, pulling me close. "And yes, I'm yours, if you're mine."

"Of course," I reply, smiling up at him.

We kiss for a minute or so, until the rice boiling over pulls us back into the present.

"We should probably keep a low profile for a while," I suggest, turning down the stove.

"Shit, I didn't even think of that," Edward admits. "But yeah, I don't want to risk hurting Jess even further. Let's give it a few weeks."

"It's a good thing we're already close friends," I say. "No one will be suspicious when we hang out."

We finish cooking and sit down to eat, happy at the way we are handling the situation.

.

Things don't go exactly as planned, though, as they rarely do. A week later, and one epic break-up on Edward's part, we spend the night at his place for the first time. I am still mostly asleep when the doorbell rings. Incessantly. Eventually it becomes clear that whoever it is, they are not leaving. Edward disentangles himself from me and the sheets.

"Be right back, gorgeous," he whispers, placing a kiss to my temple.

I snuggle back into the sheets and his pillow, but a commotion in the other room prevents me from falling back asleep.

"I thought they were just messing with me," I hear a familiar voice yell at Edward. "I mean, just because you dump me, doesn't mean you've got someone new already. Who the hell could replace me?"

I now identify the voice as Jessica's. What is she on about?

"But those shoes," she continues, disdain dripping from her tone. "No way those are mine. What, did you pick up some little tart at the pub? Is that it?"

"Jess, just let it be. Why did you come here?" Edward asks her, obviously trying to calm her down.

"Lauren saw you at South Bank Surf Club last night. Said you left with some skank draped all over you. I had to see for myself. Where is she?"

Their voices are coming closer and I know there is no time for me to find a place to hide. We might as well get it over with. Steeling myself, I sit up in bed, quickly pulling on Edward's shirt. Just in time, as the door slams open the moment I pull it over my head.

"Bella?" Jessica exclaims incredulously. "Are you kidding me?"

Edward follows right behind her, grimacing at me apologetically. I shake my head minutely, letting him know it's not his fault. That doesn't stop him from trying to diffuse the situation. Jessica is on a rant, however, and doesn't give him the opportunity to get a word in.

"What, you've been shagging her behind my back this whole time? I was some kind of joke to you both? What the hell, Edward? How could you be so heartless?"

She puts on a good act. I almost believe that she is actually hurt at this development. Just when I am about to feel sorry for her, there is a gleam in her eyes, belying her true nature.

"Guess I shouldn't be surprised that Bellend here has finally sunk her claws into you. She must be an easy lay then, for you to keep her around," she concludes maliciously.

Edward grabs her wrist, the anger on his face speaking volumes. He is about to throw her out. Now, while I'm all for the chivalrous action, I don't want him fighting my battles for me. I am in front of them before he can take a single step towards the door. Putting my hand on his arm, I silently ask Edward to release Jessica's wrist.

"Now listen very carefully, you dimwit. This manipulative, spiteful behaviour is exactly why you have always been wrong for Edward. I'm sorry you had to find out this way, but like it or not, Edward and I are together now."

"Jess, I did not break up with you because of this," Edward adds, motioning between us. "I wasn't comfortable in our relationship anymore. I'm not sure I ever was. Bella and I didn't get together until after I made up my mind."

I'm glad he skates around the actual timeline, because although Jessica doesn't deserve the courtesy, I prefer to keep things as truthful as possible.

Jessica's bravado visibly deflates when confronted with our united front. She doesn't back down easily, though.

"You both suck," she bites out as a final retort before turning around and marching out the front door.

Edward flinches when the door slams, then turns to me while rubbing the back of his neck.

"Now what?" he asks.

"Block her," I decide. "No point in flaunting it in her face or exposing us to hateful comments."

"You're right," he agrees, smiling again. "Besides, I want to focus on us."

"Hmmm, you do?" I ask, liking the turn this conversation is taking suddenly.

"Yes. Didn't I tell you? You're it for me."

With that, he picks me up, kissing me and discarding the T-shirt I'm wearing. We tumble onto the bed and spend the rest of the day making love.

* * *

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